


if i ever want to drive myself insane

by Quintessence



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining, Self-Doubt, Valentine's Day, gon: 'i like this cute person!!!!!!', killua: 'cute???? moi????? couldn't possibly be it!!!!!", out here living our best lives w cheesy valentines day goodness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22592611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessence/pseuds/Quintessence
Summary: "The room takes on a strange hazy, yellowish tint, perhaps from all the blood rushing to Killua’s head.  It sounds like him, this person Gon’s describing. Or at least some ideal, extremely generous interpretation of him.  Could Gon mean… Could he possibly…“And they’resobeautiful.”All at once, the illusion shatters, the crash ringing in Killua’s ears as hundreds of tiny fragments scatter across the floor."In which Gon tries to hint at his feelings towards Killua and misunderstandings ensue.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 86
Kudos: 897





	if i ever want to drive myself insane

**Author's Note:**

> hello all!!!!!
> 
> first things first, i have to give credit for this idea to [this precious fanart.](https://shayfaye.tumblr.com/post/190632405093/ambulance-is-on-the-way-killua) is that not the cutest thing you've ever seen??? how could i see that & not immediately write it????
> 
> title is from "there will be no divorce" by (you guessed it) the mountain goats
> 
> hope you enjoy!!!!!

“So,” Gon says, feet kicking idly as he lies sprawled on his back on Killua’s bed, “Valentine’s Day is in a week.”

Killua, seated on the floor, goes very still. He slowly places his comic book down, finger still held inside to mark the page.

“Yeah,” he replies, trying to keep his tone neutral. “It is.”

For a moment, Gon’s quiet.

“Do you think you’re gonna ask anyone out?” he says at last. His voice is strange but otherwise unreadable.

Killua’s heart clenches desperately in his chest. Why is Gon bringing this up now? Does he know Killua’s true feelings, how long and how excruciatingly he’s felt for Gon? Is he trying to get Killua to confess to him? Could it be that he, too…

No, of course not. Killua’s heart sinks; it’s his imagination running away with him as usual. As if Gon would ever return his affections. What a ridiculous, arrogant delusion.

“And why would I do that?” Killua asks.

Gon sits up on the bed, feet still hanging over the edge.

“I don’t know. I guess if you were gonna ask someone, now would be a good time, right?”

Killua’s face grows hot and he tears his gaze away from Gon, staring determinedly at the carpet.

“Well, I wasn’t planning to, so it’s sort of a moot point.”

“Oh,” is all Gon says.

Killua prays that this means he’s dropped the subject, that he won’t continue to force Killua to endure this torture. He doesn’t need to be reminded yet again that Gon will never want him. He knows. Truly. He knows.

“Does that mean you don’t like anyone?” Gon asks.

_ Damn it. _

“I didn’t say that,” Killua says, because he’s never really been able to lie to Gon.

“So you  _ do  _ like someone?”

Killua tries to imagine a route this conversation could take that won’t leave him heartbroken and devastated and terribly sick to his stomach. He comes up largely empty handed.

“I didn’t say that either.”

“Okay, so which is it? Do you like someone or don’t you?”

“Gon, could we just not talk about this?” Killua pleads.

“Oh, of course,” Gon says hurriedly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“That’s alright,” Killua says stiffly, picking back up the comic book. He tries to read, but the letters somehow don’t form any coherent words. They’re merely squiggles on a page, the illustrations simply abstract impressions of shapes and colors.

“You know, I was thinking of asking someone out,” Gon says.

Killua merely nods, not wanting to do anything to further this conversation. Gon talking about someone he likes, someone kind and beautiful and good, someone so utterly unlike Killua, isn’t something he could bear right now.

But nevertheless, Gon continues.

“This person, I’ve liked them for a while. A really, really long time, actually. We always have so much fun when we’re together.”

Gon pauses, as if asking Killua to inquire about this person Gon likes, to willingly further this agonizing, unending conversation.

“Mhmm,” is all Killua says.

“I’m always laughing around them. And they’re always there for me when I need someone. We’ve been through a lot together.”

Unbidden, Killua’s pulse quickens. He can’t permit himself to indulge in the ridiculous fantasy of Gon wanting him, but it’s difficult to resist. After all, the two of them do have fun together. They have been through a lot. It would be joy beyond description if Gon were talking about Killua, impossible though it may be.

“I’m just not sure whether to say something,” Gon continues. “I don’t want to risk ruining our friendship, seeing as I don’t know how that person feels.”

“You could always ask,” Killua replies, hoping that will be the end of the conversation.

“Yeah, I  _ tried  _ that,” Gon mutters. “This person, they’re hard to read. They tend to play things close to the chest, you know?”

No, Killua doesn’t know, and he has no interest in knowing, not with his useless, pathetic heart hammering in his chest, desperate to be the object of Gon’s desire.

“But they’re such a good friend. My  _ best friend _ , actually. I would hate to spoil that.”

Killua’s heart pounds so hard the whole room seems to pulse with it. Gon’s best friend? Could that be him? Didn’t Gon always say that? “Killua, my best friend in the world.” Weren’t those always his exact words?

“Well, maybe if you told me more about this person, I could help you figure out what to do.” Killua’s voice trembles slightly. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly. And yet…

Gon brightens, sitting up straighter on the bed and smiling.

“They’re really funny. And really strong. Probably the strongest person I know. And they act sarcastic and tough a lot of them time, but they have this other side to them. They’re the kindest person in the world beneath all of that. They’d do anything for me. And I’ve known them a really long time, but we never get sick of each other. Every time we’re together is the most fun I’ve ever had.”

The room takes on a strange hazy, yellowish tint, perhaps from all the blood rushing to Killua’s head. It sounds like him, this person Gon’s describing. Or at least some ideal, extremely generous interpretation of him. Could Gon mean… Could he possibly…

“And they’re  _ so  _ beautiful.”

All at once, the illusion shatters, the crash ringing in Killua’s ears as hundreds of tiny fragments scatter across the floor.

“I mean, they’ve got these huge, breathtaking eyes. And their eyelashes--I’ve never in my life seen eyelashes like that on a person. And when they smile, you could just die.”

No. Please. No. Gon has to stop talking. Killua’s hands clench into fists. It isn’t him. Of course it isn’t; he was so stupid to think it was. This person Gon’s describing, whoever it is, it isn’t him. Killua could be described as many things--terrifying, intense, unsettling, intimidating--but no one would ever look at Killua and see the things Gon’s saying, wide eyes and long eyelashes and a smile that’s anything other than sinister. It isn’t him.

The room is suddenly unbearably hot and tight and stuffy and Killua can’t get a decent breath of air. He stands and heads towards the door. He needs to get out, needs to get somewhere he can breathe again.

“Killua?” Gon asks.

“Sorry, I’ve just, uh, I’ve just got to go do something.”

Killua can’t bear to look at Gon right now, so he doesn’t see the expression he’s making.

“But I wanted to tell you--”

“Just do whatever you think is best. With this person, I’m sure you’ll make the right choice. Just do whatever you want, okay?”

And with that, Killua leaves the room, comic book forgotten behind him.

Despite his best efforts, hot, stinging tears gather in Killua’s eyes. It was his own damn fault, as usual. He knows better by now. He knows better than to get his hopes up, better than to think Gon would want him, better than to imagine his affections would ever be returned. But to see it laid out in front of him so clearly, to hear Gon describe this beautiful person to whom Killua will never measure up, hits like a blow to the chest.

Killua tries his utmost to find it within himself to be happy for Gon. He’s found someone he likes. Someone he has so much fun with. Someone who would do anything for him. That’s a good thing. Really. Killua would have to be absurdly selfish to sit around and mope that he simply wasn’t lucky enough to be the person Gon wants.

Killua, however, is nothing if not selfish.

* * *

The door closes behind Killua, and Gon sits in deafening silence.

He had thought it was going so well. He had thought Killua had known what Gon was trying to imply. He had thought Killua felt the same way. Killua’s eyes had gone all soft and wide and his cheeks had flushed and Gon was moments, mere moments, away from confessing his feelings. He’d imagined Killua smiling and turning so perfectly red and muttering something about how embarrassing Gon was being before Gon gently cradled Killua’s jaw in his hand and kissed him.

But it all went so spectacularly wrong. The moment Killua realized Gon was talking about him, he’d been repulsed. The shock and disappointment on his face was unmistakable. Gon must’ve made him so horribly uncomfortable, talking about how beautiful he was. He buries his face in his hands. What had he said again? Something about how Killua smiled and Gon could just die? Gods, how stupid could he be? Why would he ever think Killua would hear Gon wax poetic about his eyelashes and feel anything other than discomfort?

He’d just thought, with the way things had been these past few months, with the blushing and the teasing and the way their touches always lingered just a moment too long…

Well, it doesn’t matter what he thought. It’s Gon’s fatal flaw, isn’t it? He imposes his desires on everyone around him. He becomes so blinded by what he wants that he fails to consider anyone else’s feelings. He’d been so desperate for Killua that he’d constructed this whole elaborate fantasy in which Killua had wanted him back.

Gon’s chest burns as if he were being suffocated. His stomach clenches and churns. He feels so unbearably disgusted with himself that he wants nothing more than to go into the shower and scrub and scrub until he’s shed his skin like a lizard, revealing something new and untainted and clean underneath.

What could he possibly do now to fix things? How can he begin to repair the rift he’s caused between the two of them? Space, he supposes. Killua probably needs space. The apartment they’re sharing is small, but Gon will do his utmost not to crowd him. He’ll wait to see how Killua wants to approach their friendship now. Patience has never been Gon’s strength, but he’ll exercise some now. Goddamnit, he  _ will.  _ He won’t make things even worse for Killua.

So he won’t run after Killua, despite the instinct to. He won’t apologize. He won’t so much as mention the conversation until Killua decides it’s time. And he’ll merely pray that when he does, Killua will forgive him.

* * *

The apartment shrinks before Gon’s very eyes. Initially, he had thought two people could share the two bedroom, one bathroom unit comfortably, but it’s become impossibly small. Whenever he turns a corner, there’s Killua. Killua in the kitchen, ducking his head and refusing to meet Gon’s eyes. Killua, folding laundry in the living room until Gon comes in, after which he haphazardly shoves everything into the basket and all but runs out of the room. Killua, walking out from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, spotting Gon and hastily retreating into his room, shutting the door behind him.

The guilt eats away at Gon’s insides like acid. If only he’d kept his big, stupid mouth shut, he wouldn’t have made Killua feel so terrible. If only he hadn’t gotten ahead of himself like always, failing to think through any of the consequences. If only.

He merely prays that time will smooth the rift between them. It no longer matters if Killua wants him. Gon would give anything just to go back to the way things were, to their friendship, to the two of them laughing and joking and squabbling over something stupid. Please. Just let things go back to the way they were.

Gon would like to pretend that he doesn’t notice Valentine’s Day approaching. He’d like to pretend he’s so caught up in the mess between the two of them that he hardly realizes what day it is. That he doesn’t wake up on the fourteenth just past five in the morning with a sick knot in his stomach. He’d very much like to pretend that.

But, of course, he knows exactly what day it is. And as he lies in bed, futilely trying to go back to sleep, his imagination runs away with him. He imagines a different life, one in which he sets his alarm a half hour early and goes out to the shops to surprise Killua with flowers. And Killua would blush and claim that it’s embarrassing and stupid, but he’d take the flowers from Gon and trim the ends of the stems and place them in the pitcher from the top of the kitchen cabinet. And he’d take such care arranging them in the pitcher, making sure they all rested just so, and he’d place them on the center of the kitchen table, and whenever he’d walk past them, he’d pause for just a split second and smile.

Gon grabs the pillow from beneath his head and covers his face with it. Even now, he can’t help but torture himself.

After lying in bed for an hour, Gon decides to cut his losses and get up. In his imagined life, he makes Killua a stack of strawberry pancakes and gives him a mug of very sweet black coffee and Killua smiles and presses a kiss to his cheek in thanks. In this life, however, he pours a bowl of cereal and stares out the window as he eats, his mouth far too dry to really enjoy it.

Halfway through his bowl of cereal, Killua enters the kitchen. He stops dead for just a moment when he sees Gon, and Gon is nearly certain he’s going to turn right around and leave the room. But he merely pauses for a moment before breathing deeply and heading toward the coffee pot with a grim resignation.

For a few long moments, neither of them speaks.

“So,” Killua says at last, scooping coffee grounds into the filter, his back to Gon, “are you going to ask them?”

“What?”

Killua sighs deeply.

“The person. You know, who you were thinking of asking out. Are you going to do it today?”

Gon stops with a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he sets it back down in the bowl.

“Killua, no,” Gon says, slow and disbelieving. “Of course not. I’d never do something like that.”

“Why not?” Killua asks, voice tense with something Gon can’t quite place.

“Because why on earth would I? Your feelings are the most important thing in the world to me. And I know that you don’t want me to. So I’d never do that to you.”

Killua’s shoulders raise quite visibly, his back still to Gon.

“You knew?” he asks softly.

Gon feels awful and sick and hot all over, but this is important. Killua has to know Gon’s sorry, that he wouldn’t dare cross a boundary with him, that he’ll do his utmost not to make Killua so uncomfortable ever again.

“Your face made it perfectly clear, Killua. And I understand and I want you to know I’m respecting it. You have my word. None of that matters to me anymore, not as long as the two of us can stay friends. That’s all I want.”

“Don’t,” Killua says, voice low and strangely defeated. He still won’t turn to look at Gon.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t sacrifice your happiness on account of me. It’s just like you, Gon. To worry more about what I want than what you want. So just go and ask. Don’t worry about my feelings. They’re not what’s important here.”

“But that’s ridiculous! What horrible sort of person would I have to be not to consider your feelings in all of this?”

Killua turns around, eyes wide and over-bright.

“It’s my fault! Okay? Whatever you want, you should go after it, and you shouldn’t worry about whether it’s going to hurt my feelings, because it’s my fault for having those feelings in the first place. Whoever they are, you should go be happy with them. I’ll just find a way to get over it.”

For a long moment, Gon is silent. In his head, the pieces slowly begin to align, like the cogs of an enormous machine. They begin to turn, but just barely, the whole contraption creaking and groaning and letting out a long hiss of steam as it comes to life.

“They?” Gon says.

“What?”

“Who’s ‘they?’ Who did you think I was talking about?”

“I don’t know!” Killua says, half pain and half exasperation. “That’s the thing--I don’t know! I don’t know who it could be, but whoever it is--”

“It’s you,” Gon interrupts, his hands trembling and his breath coming fast and shallow. “Killua, of course it’s you. Who else would it possibly be?”

Killua merely stares, unblinking, for several long moments.

“ _ What?” _

Gon throws his head back and laughs, the sound like a drowning man finally breaking the surface for air.

“You thought it was someone else? You thought anyone would ever come close… No, I thought you knew it was you and I thought you hated the idea and I thought you walked out because of how uncomfortable you were. Killua, it could only ever be you.”

Killua’s face goes abruptly red and his eyes get impossibly wider.

“I… you… It was  _ me? _ ”

“Of course it was! I thought I made that pretty obvious!”

Killua’s brow furrows.

“But that person you were describing... You know, with the eyes and the smile and all that...”

“Clearly that was you!”

“Oh.”

For a moment, Killua is quiet.

“You… really think all that about me?” he says at last, sounding so desperate and so hopeful Gon could die.

“Of course I do! You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life! Sometimes I think I could just sit and stare at you for hours and never get bored, like a painting or something.”

Killua ducks his head.

“That’s really embarrassing,” he mutters.

“But do you feel the same way?” Gon asks, with the sudden and terrifying realization that Killua hasn’t actually said it yet.

Killua gets somehow redder.

“I mean, yeah, of course I do. How could I not, really? I thought you knew that. I thought you knew how I felt but you wanted someone else.”

Gon gets up from the table, not bothering to push in his chair, and takes Killua’s hands and holds them to his chest, close enough for Killua to feel his frantic heartbeat.

“No, Killua, listen. It will only ever be you. No one else, not all my life. I know it. I just know. It’ll always be you.”

Killua still stares at the floor and doesn’t respond, but Gon knows. Of course he knows.

He gives Killua’s hands a quick squeeze before releasing them and quickly heading for the door, pulling on his shoes and coat.

“Wait, Gon, where are you going?”

“I need flowers! And strawberries! And pancake mix! It’s Valentine’s day, after all, isn’t it?”

And with that, Gon heads out into the grey February chill, somehow perfectly, contentedly, blissfully warm.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so, so much for reading!!!!! pls feel free to drop a comment--i always reply (usually w something hyperactive & excessively punctuated)--or say hello on [tumblr!!!!](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/) it's where i do most of my nerd stuff outside of ao3 :)
> 
> i hope everyone reading this has a lovely valentine's day however you choose to spend it!!!!! my current plans are to hang out at home with my cat!!!!
> 
> xo


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